


Beyond Midnight

by opalmatrix



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Blood, F/M, Hell, Magic, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-04
Updated: 2012-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 02:31:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/350972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalmatrix/pseuds/opalmatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What must Hades do to begin to win Persephone's heart as well as her body?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond Midnight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Azpidistra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azpidistra/gifts).



> For Azpidistra, based on an idea from [**7veilsphaedra**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/7veilsphaedra/pseuds/7veilsphaedra). Beta by **[Carmathen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmarthen/pseuds/Carmarthen/)** , **[nekonexus](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nekonexus/pseuds/nekonexus/)** , and [**blackcatbone**](http://blackcatbone.dreamwidth.org/).

The place should have been lightless, darker than any place on Earth, but it was not. Sometimes Persephone wondered why that bothered her so. She had never found the source of the thin and weary glow that allowed her to gaze upon her uncle-husband's realm. It was simply there, wan and comfortless, barely able to cast shadows. 

How long had she been here? There was no way of knowing: night or day made no difference to this realm. She had been sitting on this bench for hours - or days? - trying to remember what sunlight was like, or flowers, or her mother's voice.

Sounds were all muffled and toneless as well, but she knew his footstep, and turned slowly to face him.

He was so like her honored father and yet so unlike. Zeus wore his passions in his features, and Hades did not - if indeed he had any such feelings. His beard and hair were black where his brother's were white. He wore a close-fitting inner robe and a loose outer garment, neither of any discernible color. "My dear wife," he said.

"My lord."

"Come with me, if you would."

In fact, she would rather not, but what else would she do if she did not accompany him? She rose slowly from her seat and followed.

They walked for some time. It might have been a long while, or perhaps it was not. All the stony walls and murky spaces seemed the same to her until suddenly, Persephone saw light.

Before her was a small, round cavern, lined with flowing white columns of stone, brightened by a score or more of small flames. Her breath caught in her throat: they were _flowers_.

Their petals were delicately thin, white, and veined with light, cupped like those of the crocus, and at the heart of each was a faint rosy glow. They had no leaves but seemed to be growing directly from the pale stone. She touched one, and it was warm. Its petals were stiff and stronger than they looked. Sometimes its light would dim faintly, only to return in full strength.

"They will close their petals and become dimmer when it is night above, and they will open again when Eos brings the dawn," said Hades. "I do not know how long they will last. They do not seem to go to seed, but they will crumble to dust if they are plucked. Do they please you?"

She nodded, speechless. "Did they simply grow here?" she asked, at last.

"They did not," said Hades. "I made them to grow."

"How?"

He was silent until she turned to look at him: "Like this." And with his strong hands, he tore his robe asunder across his broad chest, and scored his flawless skin with his nails until the blood ran red in the faint light. Then he flicked his bloody fingers at the rock, so that the droplets spattered the white stone. Faint wisps of cloud rose like steam, and then from each stain grew a slender white bud, streaked with red veins faintly glowing. As Persephone watched, the veins shone brighter until their light was as strong as that of their elder sisters, and the only trace of Hades' blood was the faint blush at the center of each.

She knotted her fingers together, trying not to feel what bubbled up within her heart: pity, awe, even some gratitude. "Why would you do such a thing?"

"A vow stands eternal between myself and your father, my brother. But does it seem so strange to you that I would hope that you would become content to be here, with me?"

"I never will!" she said "You stole me from everything I loved and forced yourself upon me."

"Then you may carve my flesh yourself, and have as much of my blood as you will to create a garden more splendid than any growing now in the world above. For you have confessed that these flowers please you, and if my person will not do that for you, then you may have my heart's blood instead."

"I cannot destroy you - can I?"

"No, you cannot. But you can cause me pain, over and over, until it is time for you to return to your mother once more. And then, when you return to me, you may do it all over again - for all time, if that is your desire. Take your due: your nails are as sharp as mine."

Blood still ran in sluggish rivers over his skin. She dipped the tip of one finger into it, and then another, until every fingertip was shining red. She turned and touched the stone with his blood and watched as the strange buds rose from the hard surface. But the red hue of these did not fade, and they glowed like coals. And for the first time since she had come to the Underworld, Persephone wept.

He said no word and did not touch her, but she knew he was still there. When at last her tears ran dry, she saw that all the little flowers were closing their petals.

"Night comes," said Hades. "It will return three and thirty times before you rise to the world above. Will you come back to the palace with me now?"

"No," she whispered. "Not tonight."

He bowed his head to her, gravely. Already the wound on his chest was healing, but he had promised she could tear it open again. "Until tomorrow, then."

She watched him go, feeling oddly weightless and cleansed. Tomorrow. There would be a morning, and she would know it was tomorrow. And then there would be another, and another, and the days would pass. Persephone lay down on the smooth stone, bathed in the soft light of the flowers that had grown from the blood of the Host of the Multitudes, and slept.

* * *

_Images from stock and from[Bahman Farzad](http://www.flickr.com/photos/21644167@N04%22) on Flickr (© Bahman Farzad / lotusflowerimages.com)_

 


End file.
